A married man grapples with forbidden feelings for another woman, torn between loyalty and desire in a modern love story.

His Love I met him fifteen years ago. I was still a newbie in the adult world but I had already had my fair share of trials and tribulations. They say my mother died in the delivery room giving birth to me she had had a healthy pregnancy but developed complications during the last trimester of the the pregnancy. After my birth my father took it upon himself to single handedly raise me. But he did not have a choice, or did he? That question remains to be unanswered. I think his life was also shattered when he learned the news of his darling wife's passing. Death? such a devastating concept that seeks to take from it's beneficiaries. When I was 10 years old we lost our home due to fire that erupted from Daddy's bedroom, he passed out leaving the gas heater on which later became the cause of the fire. How he survived that dreadful night is a mystery even to me. I have never really had a stable place to call home, a place to symbolify my belonging. We had to hop from one place to another leaving all the memories and moments we could've had together as family. I'm only grateful that my father was able to keep his job in spite of his shaky character. The longest time we lived in a place was for eighteen months. I decided to let my guard down and be comfortable, perhaps this was to become our home forever. It was a hired studio apartment with exquisite interior, almost felt like home. The was a framed picture on on the passage wall, it was my parent's wedding picture. My dad gazes at it religiously with a golden sparkle in his eyes, He would stare at it like it took him to a magical world of love where only the two of them existed. Showering each other with acts of love. I really enjoyed living here, the garden was a beautiful sight at the heart of the garden lied a serene pond its surface reflected the skies situated a above our heads. The was a small fountain bubble that created a soothing soundtrack that enhanced the beautiful atmosphere. My favourite spot each time I felt like an outcast, to drink my morning coffee or read a hand written letter scribed by my then crush who was my classmate and captain of the school rugby team, Calvin Blue. A slightly tall boy with with ocean blue eyes as titled by Billie Ellish song. Father called out for me inside the house, "Can you please iron my shirt I'm already running late?". I took the shirt and scurried down the laundry that was outside the house. This is the place where him and I met. A strong willed, handsome man in his late thirties by the name of Tariq he was there to straighten his Shalwar Kameez he looked dangerously handsome in even though he was wearing a kufi that made him look older than he actually was. His eyes landed on me and it was like they are staring into my soul desperate to hang on to it I stared back at him timidly with a flash of smile in my eyes. The laundry room was quite crowded, and I believe he was a little too nervous to make a move and be judged. We started our clandestine relationship soon after the first time we met, I thought of him as noble man. Dusk was our time to be together by the lake side. It was during a cold time in Winter, my favourite season. His dark, caramel skin against mine as he tightly embraced me in his arms in those untold evenings. Was it the beginning of forever love? but we wouldn't be here a decade and half if it was right? His full brown face and thick lips were my favourite feature in his brow. I was also ashamed of our relationship because of the age gap that was between us. We were both determined to see cause our love as a staunch Muslim man that he was we had to do everything in our power to keep relationship a secret. The school I was attending was ten minutes away from the apartment so, there was no need for school transport. I enjoyed being in the wings of his love as they engulfed me it came with so much serenity that made me feel seen and heard without being caught up in the clutches of my father. It was a place for us where everything with nothing but good things. One day he called to inform me about his uncle's passing, I could hear in his voice the pain and suffering it had bought to his heart. His voice trembling in anguish. The relationship was a strange one having been raised by his uncle and aunt. He was bedridden for the six months at most he had done everything he possibly knew to save his estranged uncle's life. Like a desert bare and futile, that's how his heart felt. We flew to his homestead without Daddy's knowledge because he had told me that he needed me to be there for him. I was taken to a small, modernly built rondavel where I was going to be accommodated for the three coming weeks. Before the burial of the deceased a Janazah is performed in most Islamic families, it was also a great way for the both of us to cement our love, make make memories and perhaps consummate our relationship sadly, it was under unfortunate circumstances. Some time after we had settled. People started pouring in for the bereavement. The neighbors had a sense of love and community, they carried warm smiles to their chests. Tarah introduced me to his family as a friend and I receives such a good reception. I felt like one of their own. My was springed up with joyfulness. At the same time I couldn't help but wonder if Daddy was coping? Does my absence upset him? All these questions were racing through my head. He came from behind me and put his hands over my eyes, " Daydreaming about me?". "No mister, I'm definitely not!"